Serendipity
by Partly
Summary: All Neal wants to do is visit the Jefferesonian...


"I'm not going to let you walk around a museum filled with priceless antiquities unaccompanied, Neal."

Neal Caffrey stood on the steps of the Jeffersonian. "It's not like I'm going to get the chance to be in Washington again anytime soon." He reluctantly turned his back on the building, giving his full attention to Peter. "I'll let you pat me down when I get out."

"No." Peter continued to walk past the building, heading across the park.

Neal reluctantly followed. "They just opened an exhibit on art in Ancient Syria."

"Not happening."

"I helped close your case. At least let me take a tour, that way I'll be 'accompanied'."

"When pigs fly, Neal."

Neal lagged behind as they crossed the grassy open area in front of the museum. "What am I supposed to do while you're in this meeting?"

"Anything you want, as long as it's legal and done where I can see you."

"iAnything/i I want?" The statement had the desired effect. Peter stopped and spun to look at him.

"Don't be difficult, Neal. I have a few things to go over with Agent Booth and then I'm back in New York in time to eat with El. We haven't had dinner in a month."

A loud icrack/i cut through the early afternoon air, freezing them in mid-movement. A large object sailed through the air just to their left, plowing into the ground twenty feet further ahead.

In the second of stillness that followed, jubilant shouts could clearly be heard from behind. Neal and Peter ignored them, running instead to a newly created hole with an unidentified object buried in it. Before Neal could figure out what it was, a pair of men, both wearing lab coats, over-sized rubber gloves and safety glasses, sprinted up to them.

"That proves it!" The shorter one exclaimed. "That flew at least fifty yards."

The taller one put a hand on his friend's arm. "Ah, Hodgins? I think we may have a problem…" He nodded at Peter, who'd turned toward them, gun and badge clearly visible.

"What's going on here, gentlemen?" Peter's voice had that low, dangerous quality Neal recognized, but that was lost on the enthusiastic Hodgins.

"That was awesome!" Hodgins animatedly began, all broad gestures and excitement. "I thought we'd get 20 yards, 30 max. But 50? This proves it!"

Hodgins finally stopped when Peter stepped in front of him, hands on his hips. "You're saying you did this on purpose?" He didn't wait for Hodgins to answer. "People could've been hurt."

Hodgins blinked at Peter, as if finally realizing what was happening. "What? No. I mean, I checked to make sure that it was safe. Even with the extra distance…" He stopped in the face of Peter's continued stare. "No one got hurt."

Two more people ran up. Neal didn't recognize the woman, but he knew FBI Agent Booth from the case they had just worked on.

"Hodgins, what the hell did you do this time?" Booth asked the question before he'd stopped.

Hodgins spun to face Booth, as animated as before. "Using an exact replica of Levin's catapult, we managed to throw a frozen 180 lb pig carcass more than 50 yards, proving that it could have been the murder weapon. That should be enough to get a warrant to test the original catapult for DNA evidence, right?"

Neal ignored the rest of the conversation, turning instead to examine the object in the hole. Once the dirt settled, it was easy to see that it had been a pig in a previous life. He tried not to imagine what person would look like if the same thing had happened to them. The woman who had arrived with Booth crossed to stand next to him.

"You with the FBI, too?"

"In a manner of speaking." He smiled and held out his hand. "Neal Caffrey."

"Angela Montenegro." Her handshake was warm and strong. "We work for the Jeffersonian. At least we do until Cam finds out Hodgins pulled this stunt. Then we'll see."

Neal followed her fond smile back to the group who seemed to have worked out their problems. With Hodgins and his partner looking suitably chastised, Peter and Booth walked over to Neal.

"We can go now," Peter said. "Seeley says the diner has good coffee."

"I think I'll take a tour of the Jeffersonian instead," Neal said.

"We discussed this, Neal."

"You said I couldn't go unaccompanied. But I'm sure that Miss Montenegro would be happy to show me around." He tipped his hat at Angela.

Angela studied him for a second, the shrugged. "Sure. I'd be glad to show an agent around."

"He's not an agent," Peter said, "he's a… consultant."

Neal leaned in conspiratorially. "Actually, I'm a thief. But I do work for the FBI. At the moment."

To his delight, Angela smiled. "Really?" She wrapped her arm through Neal's. "Have you ever stolen anything I may have heard of?"

"I was clear about this, Neal." The dangerous tone was back in Peter's voice.

Neal grinned. "You said I could."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"iWhen pigs fly/i." Neal nodded his head toward the carcass in the hole.

The tick in Peter's jaw jumped and Neal could see the agent was going argue the point, so he sweetened the deal. "I'll be on my best behavior. You'll be back in time to eat with Elizabeth. I promise."

Peter studied him a moment. "Fine." He looked over to Angela. "Just don't let him out of your sight, Miss Montenegro."

Angela moved closer to Neal. "Oh, I don't plan to."

Peter groaned and rubbed his head.

Booth gave a sympathetic shrug as they walked away. "We'll be done in an hour," he said. "How much trouble can they get into?"

Neal ignored Peter's "You don't want to know", smiling instead at Angela. "You lead the way," he said. "Let's start in the Syrian exhibit and I'll tell you which pieces may or may have been stolen at some point."


End file.
